


Bedroom hymns

by Ischa



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Canon Related, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Prostitution, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:18:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Selina is a high class prostitute, John pretends he only does it because the orphanage needs the money and Bruce is his usual charming, messed up self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt: http://tdkr-kink.livejournal.com/3076.html?thread=2891780#t2891780  
> Beta by saeadame. Thank you so much. <3  
> Title: Florence and the machine  
> There is a companion piece now \o/. You should check it out. [Touched](http://archiveofourown.org/works/689485)

**~One~**

“Get in the car,” a voice says. John's heard that one so many times he can't even count anymore, but usually the voice is male. Women are less aggressive; less demanding. Not her. John slows down, stops on the pavement, and eventually the car stops too. 

He looks at the driver, he knows it's her, but he hasn't seen her in several months, maybe more than a year.   
Selina doesn't smile. Doesn't wave, doesn't do much of anything, except stare at him.   
This is not her style. Being here. Doing this. She probably outgrew the street-corner at sixteen. 

It's been a slow night. John is cold and if she's here, he'll get at least a coffee and a slice of pie somewhere warm for his trouble.  
Also if she's here she probably means business.  
John gets into the car. 

~+~  
“You could've called.” 

“It's the end of the month,” she replies and John nearly smiles. She still keeps tabs on him; still cares to some degree. Knows that he still hasn't found a better job, to be honest he hasn't really looked, and needs the extra cash. 

“So?” he asks. 

“I have a client,” she answers, and he waits for her to go on. Takes a bite of his cherry pie, watches her take a sip of coffee. She looks beautiful. Even at ass o'clock. She's wearing jeans and a too-big sweatshirt that doesn't really hide how gorgeous her body is. Sometimes John's fingers itch to touch her again. To just hold her hand, feel the warmth of her skin.   
“He's asked if I could recommend someone to him.” 

John nods. “He only wants to watch or-”

“It's not-”she says and stops, takes a breath. “Maybe. I don't know. He doesn't know what he wants. John,” she says looking into his eyes. “He's asked for a male escort. He probably does want to fuck us both at the same time at some point, or watch or whatever.”

He doesn't make her say that she'll have to give that guy up if he declines. He's not a dick. He could just walk out of here. He isn't really a hooker. It's just – sometimes he needs the cash at the end of the month, especially during winter. He likes the excitement that comes with it too. She is an all or nothing kind of woman. And she doesn't trust people. Not to fuck her over and also in general. 

“Questions,” he says. 

“Shoot.” 

“How long have you been working for him?”

“Over half a year.” 

“How many times a week?” 

“Depends,” she says. He gives her a look. “One to three, sometimes four.” 

“Do you spend the night?” 

“No.” 

“Anything I need to know?” 

“Like what?” she asks, and now she's just fucking with him. 

“Selina. I can walk out of here any time and you wouldn't be here if he weren't paying really good.” Which is probably only one of her reasons. 

“Fine,” she hisses. “He isn't into anything you couldn't handle or I wouldn't have asked.” 

He nods. “Okay.” 

“He's...” she hesitates. “He's damaged. I mean, his body. His body is damaged. And he has moods.” 

“Did he hurt you?” John asks, and tries to keep calm. 

“No... Sometimes he sends for me and when I arrive he throws me out or I'm sent away at the door,” she answers. “By the butler.” Her look tells him how insulting she finds it. “He still pays.” She takes a deep breath. “I don't know what else to say, John. It's really good cash. You can give it to the orphanage, if you don't want to keep it.” There is a sardonic smile playing around her lips. 

“How much?” he asks and she writes a number on a napkin, sliding it over to him. 

John unfolds it carefully. Holy shit, he thinks. That is good pay. “I'm in,” he says. 

“This doesn't mean -”

He cuts her off. “I know. It's business.” 

“Yeah.” 

~+~  
John wishes he wasn't impressed by the manor, but he is. He feels like he is super under-dressed. This is not really his style. 

He should have said no, as soon as he heard the name Wayne. Nothing good can come out of this. Selina seems to be fond of this guy, though, or she wouldn't have asked. Wouldn't have considered it. She has rules. And John...well, since the first time he saw Wayne in flesh and bone, he developed a stupid crush that just didn't die down.   
It doesn't help that he still cares for Selina, will probably never stop caring for her. What was he thinking saying yes to this?  
Sleeping with her for some guy's benefit? Could he do that? Could he- he shakes the thought away. Sure he could. He needs the money, and more importantly the orphanage needs the money. And, some part of him _wants_ to see Wayne naked.  
John rings the bell. 

~+~  
John has no idea, well not a real one, how this will go down. Usually he just gets on his knees, or it's done in the front seat somewhere – fast and dirty – but somehow he doesn't think that is Wayne's style. 

“Mister Blake I presume?” the butler asks. John doesn't miss the quick once over. 

“Yes,” John answers. He's sure nothing more needs to be said. The staff always knows all the secrets. If it's good staff they don't sell them to the highest bidder, and John hasn't heard a word about Wayne's private life in years. Not that he was _really_ looking. It had been a rule to stay as far away as he could from Wayne. But then, Selina always made him break his own rules; cross the lines, draw new ones, and cross those too. 

“Very well, follow me young man.” 

John smiles at him, he can't help it. John knows people and this butler, well, he would like to stay on the man's good side. 

~+~  
John takes everything in he can as quickly as he can. The exits first, of course, because that is the kind of person he is, mostly since he lost his dad. The orphanage hadn't been horrible, but it hadn't been a place to let his guard down either. 

“Can I bring you something while you wait?” the butler asks. 

“Will it take long, you think mister...?” John asks. 

“Pennyworth,” he answers smoothly. 

John offers his hand. He doesn't remember much of his mother, but he knows she had always been big on manners. The butler looks surprised for a second and then takes John's hand. “Nice to me you,” John says and thinks something like a smile flitters over the man's face. 

“Likewise. And to be honest, I don't know. Master Wayne might not show up at all tonight. It has happened before.” 

“In that case, I would like a cup of tea,” John answers. He gets a slight eyebrow raise for that. 

“Very well,” Mister Pennyworth says and leaves the room quietly. 

John looks around. It's a library; small, for such a big house. The drapes are drawn; there is a sofa, big and cosy looking in one corner; three big armchairs in the middle of the room and a few small tables. Except for the big French windows, the walls are made up of bookshelves. John likes books and he has nothing better to do now anyway. So he looks around. 

At some point, Mister Pennyworth comes in with the tea, leaves it on one of the tables with a nod, and disappears again. John only intends to wait for two hours – no longer. Good thing Selina gave him pointers on that one. He chooses a book he is pretty sure he'll be entertained by and settles into one of the chairs, the cup of tea on a nearby table. It's really very good tea. John can't indulge in buying the good stuff often, so he enjoys it when it's offered. 

~+~  
He looks up as he hears the floor squeak. There's a shadow in the doorway, and John looks at the clock. Shit, he thinks, he totally overstayed his welcome. He had been so engrossed in the book. He stands up, marking the page with a finger and then smiles at himself. It's not like he can come back and finish it. 

“I imagine,” a deep voice says, and John knows that voice. Would recognize it anywhere. “The tea has gone cold already,” Wayne finishes. 

“I got drawn in,” John replies. He is still holding the book and still holding his place in it. Stupid. 

“It seems so,” Wayne says, stepping closer. John holds his ground. He isn't sure he wants to do this, but he isn't sure he doesn't want to do this either, and even if he usually doesn't let strangers fuck him for money (blow- and handjobs don't really count), he isn't nervous about it. He's done it before. 

“It's a good thing you kept me waiting in the library. Kept me entertained at least.” 

“It was Alfred. I don't really care where my...”

“Hookers? Whores? Prostitutes?” John supplies smoothly, but he is a bit annoyed underneath his calm façade, and can't really say why. 

“Should I pick one?” Wayne answers. 

“You can pick all of them – among other things,” John says. It's Wayne's money; he can call John whatever he wants. John doesn't care – or tries not to. 

“Miss Kyle,” Wayne says, sitting down in the armchair opposite and gestures for John to do the same, “filled you in, I believe?” 

“Selina said some things,” John answers. He isn't going to play down how good he knows Selina. It wouldn't work anyway. As soon as Wayne sees them touching each other he'll know that they've done it before. He still remembers all the places that make her moan, bite her lip and grab the sheets tighter. 

“And she trusts you,” Wayne says, it's also a question. 

“Selina doesn't trust anyone.”

“And yet you’re here,” Wayne replies.

“She knows I won't hurt her, even you might want me to. She knows I won't go and sell whatever it is you want to do, are doing, to the press. She knows I won't fuck her over. Besides that...” he spreads his hands. He's sure Wayne did a background check on him too, as soon as Selina mentioned his name. It would be stupid not to. 

“You are not what I expected Mister Blake,” Wayne says. 

“But you still like what you see,” John replies, and he doesn't flirt, doesn't play it up. He knows on some level Wayne wouldn't like that. What Wayne likes, John thinks, is honesty. Or as much as someone is willing to give; he prefers silence over a lie. 

“I do,” Wayne says. 

John is pretty sure he won't be thrown out tonight. Well, not until he has had a taste of Wayne's cock. 

~+~  
John likes to suck dick. He doesn't have to think about it. He likes to have that power; he likes to make people moan and scream and feel good. Likes to make them forget for a little while.   
He's good at it too.   
The need to catalogue reactions is second nature to him; maybe that is what makes him so good at it. Maybe it's the year-long practice.   
Wayne doesn't touch him, even thought John could get a better read off him if he did, but the way Wayne grabs the arms of the chair hard as John's mouth slides up and down his length tells John a lot of things too. He's going to compare notes with Selina later this week.   
Wayne is panting and biting his lip and John wants to touch him, wants to run his hands over his legs, his thighs, wants to draw circles on Wayne's hips: maybe kiss them too. But he is not allowed. Wayne was very clear on what he wants and John is paid (very well) to give it. So he's following Wayne's instructions to a T.  
He sneaks one hand between his own legs as he sucks Wayne, because he is getting hard (like he knew it would happen), and Wayne didn't say anything about John not being allowed to touch himself. John can multi-task.   
Wayne bites his lip to keep a moan in as he comes.   
John wishes, never mind it's stupid as hell, that they didn't need the condom.  
He stays on his knees, jerking himself off, not touching Wayne, his eyes closed until he comes too.   
After he catches his breath he stands up, grabs a tissue from his jacket and cleans himself up. 

“There is a bathroom opposite this room, you can use that. Alfred will drive you home.” 

“Thanks, but no thanks. I'll take the bus,” John says. No way in hell is he going to let the butler drive him home. It's just not the neighbourhood for that kind of behaviour. 

“You're declining the bathroom too?” Wayne asks with a small raise of his eyebrow, and John is reminded of how he's always envied Selina that, amongst other things. He really wishes he could do that too. 

“No,” John says. “That would be stupid.” 

Wayne nods and John leaves the library. He recognises a dismissal when he sees one.   
He isn't worried about the money. John knows people. 

~+~  
Mister Pennyworth waits for him at the door when John is showered and ready to go home. 

“The tea was lovely,” John says. 

“It's wild rose and French vanilla,” the butler replies, handing him an envelope. Staff knows everything.   
John puts it away, turning to the door and grabs for the handle. “Mister Blake,” the butler says and John turns to him. “I wrote down the name for you, as well as who sells it in the city,” he says, handing John a hastily written post it. 

“Thank you, Mister Pennyworth. I appreciate it,” John replies, smiling. 

“Good night Mister Blake,” the butler says. 

“Good night Mister Pennyworth,” John answers and steps out into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**~Two~**

“Miss Kyle,” Alfred says and she bends down to kiss his cheek. He used to be flustered a bit by it in the beginning, but he got over it pretty fast. 

“Selina,” she reminds him gently. 

Alfred smiles. “Miss Selina,” he repeats and she grins. 

“How is he?” she asks, genuinely interested. She’s grown fond of Wayne. She knows Alfred worries about him too. 

“He will see you,” Alfred answers. That doesn't say much, she knows, but at least he feels like company, which counts for something in Alfred's opinion.

“I won't keep him waiting then,” she says. 

“God knows he could use a taste of his own medicine,” Alfred replies under his breath and she smiles at him. 

~+~  
Selina works for a lot of rich clients and every time she steps into their houses the staff and lets her know what they think of her profession.  
Not that she cares. She provides a service; she likes sex and she likes money. 

Alfred has never treated her like a common whore. Sometimes she suspects he is glad that Wayne has any kind of company that isn't him or the demons he is so obviously battling all the time. She likes coming here. She likes working for Wayne even he is weird and withdrawn, and borders on scary sometimes, not that he lets her stay on those nights. And she isn't frightened easily, but she is glad she doesn't have to help him battle his demons that way.  
And it's a bit exciting. She can admit that. She finds him attractive too, that always helps. 

~+~  
“Miss Kyle,” Wayne says and she nods. 

“Mister Wayne,” she answers. He never ever calls her by her first name. It's always strictly business, no feelings attached. It's strange, she thinks, most guys, most long-term clients, want her to pretend she genuinely likes them. Want that girlfriend-sex without having the girlfriend responsibilities. Wayne's never asked for anything that could connect them on any level other than physically. It was all about getting off for him. 

“Strip please,” he says and she does. Not teasing, but fast and efficient. “I want to watch you. Face down, on your knees,” he instructs, and she gets on the bed. 

It's not good for her like this because the angle is wrong. She's never going to tell him of course; she isn't here for her own pleasure. She's here for his.  
She likes to tease herself, likes to play with her breasts, her nipples until she's wet and clenching, likes to run her hands and fingers over her sides, even if it tickles slightly. She likes to masturbate on her back, because she doesn't actually like to have anything inside her when she pleasures herself. She gets off on just rubbing and teasing her clit.  
This position messes with that; it's hard to only rub her clit, as it isn't exposed properly. It frustrates her to no end.  
If John were here, he would lick her open, hold her hips up and suck her clit, and tease it with his tongue. He sucks a clit like he sucks dick, she imagines – she's never seen it, but he's talked about it. They‘ve talked about it.  
She wonders, as she slips one finger inside her, because it seems like men enjoy this kind of thing, what Wayne lets John do. She wonders if he's so weird and particular with him too. Probably.  
She'll have to compare notes. 

She knows Wayne is watching her, jerking himself off, and she knows that she only has to come for this to be over. She just can't get into it today. She's too distracted. She can hear him breathing, shallow and quiet. He never makes much noise; like he's always keeping himself in check.  
She could fake it – she's good at it – but somehow she knows that he would know. That he would throw her out if she lied to him. She wonders if she just told him that this doesn't work for her, he’d let her turn around. Chances aren't good, because there are days when he doesn't want to see her face at all. And when he tells her to turn away from him; that's a big fucking clue right there. 

And suddenly she wonders if he made John turn away from him too, if John had been on his knees like she was now, touching himself – and that image does it for her after all. She sinks into the fresh sheets, always fresh. He doesn't even give her his scent. She’s catching her breath as she hears his hand still. She would love to turn and look at him, but she knows that he doesn't want that. 

“Good night, Miss Kyle,” he says and she gets up. 

“Good night, Mister Wayne.” She has the insane urge to kiss him goodbye. She doesn't. 

~+~  
“It's weird,” John says, taking a sip of his coffee. They're going to pay separately, because this is not a date and she knows he can afford it now. They make an odd pair, she thinks. Her looking like Audrey Hepburn and him like some upcoming musician. He even has a guitar, because he's going to teach the boys at the orphanage today, like every Saturday. He's such a good-doer. It's disgusting, she thinks fondly. “He doesn't let me touch him. I was only allowed to suck his dick,” John says, and Selina is glad they have a corner table. But they couldn’t have this discussion at his place or hers. It had to be neutral territory, and she happens to like this café.

“I was wondering if it was only me. But I think he's just peculiar.” 

“He's a control freak, Selina,” John says. 

She smiles. “That too, but you're not going to quit, are you?” She takes a croissant and breaks it into small pieces on her plate before she starts eating it. 

“No, the money is good and I don't think he'll require me as much as you. Besides, I kinda like Alfred,” John admits. “He doesn't make me feel like a whore.” 

“You are not,” she says. 

He shrugs. “I am sometimes. It doesn't bother me. You know I like having things in my mouth,” he replies licking his spoon with a wicked glint in his eyes. She hides behind her big mug of café au lait. She can still remember that tongue on her skin, in her mouth. She knows how good he is at- well. “And I do need the money,” he finishes. “So,” he asks putting the spoon away, “Do you want to know how it was?” 

She bites her lip. She does want to know how it was for John. She wants to hear every fucking detail. She wants to taste it at the back of her tongue, even if she knows it's most likely a really bad idea.  
“Sure. Tell me a story John,” she says and he smirks. 

It's almost like old times. 

~+~  
After they pay he walks her to her car. 

“Not so flashy, hmm?” he says, stroking the curves of the Ford. 

“You should see my other car,” she answers. 

“If you want to take me for a ride,” he says; it sounds like he might be flirting, but they don't do that anymore. She doesn't do that anymore. She doesn't go out with people like him, she doesn't go out with rich guys, she doesn't go out much at all, actually. Not to meet guys. It seems like her profession always gets in the way. Sooner or later they always want to know what she does for a living and even if a lot of guys seem to be okay, in theory, with her being a high-class prostitute, they aren't in practice. Some want to make her see the error of her ways or to save her. As if she needed saving. She makes a lot of money, she invests it wisely and makes more money, and if she's really good and doesn't start living over her budget, she'll be a rich old hag one day. 

“I can drive you to the orphanage,” she offers. 

“Thanks,” he replies. 

“Get in the car,” she says because she can't help herself. 

John laughs.  
With John, she thinks, it wouldn't be a problem because he knows she doesn’t need saving or protecting. He knows her. But she broke his heart. She left because what they had wasn't enough for her, because she wanted something more, something better. She wonders sometimes if this is really better. 

~+~  
“He's kept you around for a while now...” John says. 

“Yes and?” 

“Maybe he'll marry you,” John grins. 

She laughs out loud. “He is not Richard Gere and I am not Julia Roberts.” 

“You are way prettier than her,” John says, his voice gentle. 

“Sweet-talker,” she gives back. 

“Talented tongue,” he reminds her. 

She's saved from saying anything by their arrival at the orphanage. John doesn't hesitate to get out of the car. He grabs his guitar and says thanks. Selina nods. She thinks about kissing him goodbye because it feels familiar, but she doesn't because it isn't. Not anymore. 

~+~  
She wonders, on the way back to the city, if John really only took the job because he needed the money. He knows her. He must know all the reasons why she didn't recommend any of the male escorts she's friends with.  
And she is stupid for questioning his reasons now.  
It doesn't matter right now anyway. What's done is done. It will only become an issue when, if, Wayne should request a threesome and she really wonders how that will go. What with Wayne not letting them touch him.  
Normally he only watches her or lets her suck him off. She misses the contact, the kind of connection that usually comes with sex; the freely given affection, a hand on her cheek, fingers in her hair. Words for god's sake. Wayne doesn't give any of that away; keeps everything to himself. 

On his good days, really good days, he makes her lay down on the bed, her hands clutching the headboard and he touches her. Strokes her skin, teases her nipples until they're hard and she's aching with need; he strokes over her legs, her sides, her thighs, rubbing her clit and never slipping one finger inside her, because he knows her body's reactions. He knows that is not what she likes. Damn him, she thinks. And damn her for just realising it now. She is getting wet just thinking about all the mad, passionate sex they could have be having if Wayne wasn't Wayne; if she was his real girlfriend that could demand things. If he can catalogue reactions like John can...it would be so freaking good. And she's sure it is second nature to Wayne too.  
But he's messed up, and this is not Pretty Woman. 

~+~  
Selina misses good sex. She hasn't seen any of her other clients for weeks. She doesn't need their money now that Wayne is paying for her time and company. The thing that bugs her is that it never used to be a matter of 'need' – it was just easy money, and whether she needed it or not, it was there. She got paid for her time and now she turns people down even if she has time. Wayne still sends her away randomly, but early enough to make other arrangements. She doesn't make them. 

And even if the sex with Wayne isn't bad, it's not fulfilling. 

Even if he fucks her, she has to keep her hands to herself. There is no passion at all. 

And still, she thinks, I don't call it off. 

She doesn't like to look at her behaviour where he is concerned too closely. She's afraid she might not like what she sees.


	3. Chapter 3

**~Three~**

“Alfred,” John says, smiling. Some weeks ago Mister Pennyworth became Alfred. John is glad because he really likes the older man. 

“Master John,” Alfred answers warmly. Alfred won't back down on the “Master” part, but at least he's calling John by his first name. John recognises a lost battle when he sees one. 

“So? How is he?” John asks. 

Alfred's face is perfectly blank, but John is good in reading between 'blank' and 'blank'. “Not so great, hmm?” 

“He might not see you at all tonight. He was fine, as he sent for you Master John, but his moods change fast.” 

John nods. He knows. “Well, he pays me for my time.”

“Of course,” Alfred answers and grabs for the envelope.

“No, I didn't mean it that way. But I will take the money anyway,” John says smiling. “I mean, he pays for my time and not really my company. Lately, that is. Well, I’m here anyway, and my bus only stops here every two hours. The system sucks...So I was wondering would it be okay to wait here? With you? In the kitchen?” John feels nervous, but he has really no way to get back home except an expensive taxi, and he hopes Alfred doesn't offer to drive him home. John doesn't think he will, because he knows Alfred is reluctant to leave Wayne alone when he's in one of his moods. 

“Very well,” Alfred answers. “But I think you will be very bored by an old man like me.” 

“Somehow I really doubt that, Mister Pennyworth,” John replies smiling. 

~+~  
Alfred makes them tea and some scones. John realises that he is really hungry. He’d forgotten to eat on his way here. He'd been at work and then he took the boys out for ice-cream. 

“I'm hungry,” he says, buttering a scone. 

“You need to take better care of yourself, Master John,” Alfred replies. 

“I try my best, but I had work, then took out the boys for ice-cream and then came my summons to the manor on the hill,” John says biting into his scone. They are so very, very, very good, he thinks. “These are delicious.” 

“Thank you. Which boys, if I may ask?” 

“Oh, from the orphanage I grew up in. Funding is not what it used to be and I do what I can. After all, they tried their best to make a good person out of me. Not their fault I didn't turn out right.” 

“You seem a fine young man to me,” Alfred says sincerely. 

“I try my best,” John replies, suppressing a blush. He is really touched. 

“Why is the funding not what it used to be?” 

“Well, some foundation was helping the city along, but the money stopped coming a few years ago. No explanation given.” It's not the whole truth, but he is not going to tell Alfred that Wayne stopped donating money to boys' homes all over the city. 

“And you help them along? How?” 

“By taking the boys out, buying birthday presents, giving basketball and guitar lessons...money, when I can spare it. Wayne's money helps,” John says, ducking his head. 

“Is there a birthday coming up soon?” Alfred asks. 

“Yes,” John says, and wonders where Alfred is going with this. 

“Maybe you would like a cake? Some cupcakes. I haven’t made those in a long time. I miss messing around with crème.” 

“You want to bake a cake for forty children?” John wants to know. 

“Well, I imagine it will take more than one,” Alfred says. 

“I...I can't-”

“Nonsense, it's not like we can't afford it,” Alfred cuts him off. 

“I would really appreciate it, Alfred, really. Thank you.” 

“Just let me know what the birthday boy likes. Chocolate? Vanilla? I have always had a soft spot for red velvet cake, even it's so American,” Alfred says with a smile. 

“I'll ask, but as long as there is cake, the boys will be delighted. Especially if there is enough for everyone,” John says sincerely. 

“That, Master John, won't be a problem at all.”   
John has no idea what else to say, except thank you, but he's already said it. He's a bit choked up, actually.  
“More tea?” Alfred asks and John nods to cover it up. Not that he thinks he can fool 

Alfred for one minute. Not that he thinks anyone could.  
Alfred Pennyworth is a man of many depths. 

~+~  
Wayne doesn't let him go up, and John doesn't mind. Sometimes it's really hard to be whatever Wayne wants John to be. A toy, or a thing at best. Expensive and warm, but what does it matter as Wayne never really touches him anyway?  
He leans his head against the grimy glass of the bus window and looks outside. It's dark again and he feels exhausted and cold, but good too.  
Being with Alfred has that effect on him. John knows Alfred has a similar effect on Selina. A corner of his heart wishes Alfred could make Wayne feel that way too. But maybe Wayne is too far-gone. Maybe he takes it all for granted, maybe he doesn't care, doesn't want it, and doesn't accept what Alfred is trying to give him.   
Sometimes he wonders what really happened that night Harvey Dent died, because he doesn't believe the rubbish the press wrote for one second.   
He wonders if that was what broke him, or if there was something more sinister, closer to his heart. 

His behaviour in the bedroom certainly speaks volumes of issues. The way he needs to be in control all the time, the way he doesn't indulge in touch, doesn't even indulge in watching his bed-partner's face very often, and doesn't allow himself to be touched. He's built a wall. A big, strong wall that keeps the world out, that keeps him disconnected. Above it all, maybe. But he still has desires. It's a good thing, John thinks. 

It's as if he's punishing himself, by denying what every human being needs to stay sane.   
What a waste of potential. He sighs. At least Wayne's money does some good now. 

~+~  
In the last five months, since Selina told him to get in her car, he's sucked Wayne's dick fourteen times, jerked him off eight times, jerked himself off twenty-three times while Wayne watched – studying, cataloguing, being unnerving as hell – been jerked off after what felt like hours of foreplay where he wasn't allowed to do _anything_ at all four times and got his dick sucked twice (with his hands firmly planted on the back of the chair Wayne had been sitting in).   
And despite all this, despite having orgasms with another person (at least in the same room) he is feeling pretty fucking empty. He's touch-starved, he realises, because even the guys he blows for less than he is worth in shady back-alleys – or used to before Wayne – were grabbing his head, tangling their fingers in his hair, touching his shoulders. There was always at least some kind of contact.   
What Wayne is doing with him, to him, seems like cruel and unusual punishment. 

“I want to have good, fulfilling sex,” John says into the phone. 

“Good fucking morning to you too, John,” Selina answers. She sounds awake and John sure as hell is, so he isn't too worried. 

“I mean it. How is it that you aren't crawling out of your skin with the need to have good, old-fashioned sex?” He pours himself a cup of tea – the good kind that Alfred slipped him the last time Wayne stood him up – and waits for her to answer. He isn't sure she will reply at all, but it's worth the shoot. 

“What stops you from having 'good, old-fashioned' sex?” she asks and he just knows she's making air-quotes too. 

Nothing, John thinks, but that is a lie. “Wayne,” he says. 

“Yeah,” Selina sighs like she knows that feeling. 

“I have no fucking idea why I am even feeling the need to be somehow...” he wants to say 'faithful', but that is stupid, “loyal,” he settles on. 

“It's Wayne. He somehow fucks with your head. I haven't had another client in months, John. Months. And I know he isn't in any way monogamous. He is fucking you for instance.” She sighs. “But you should just go out and fuck a nice girl, or a guy, just because. You know. Whatever.” 

“Ever wonder why he does what he does?” John asks. 

“Because he's messed up? Because he saw his parents being murdered and now he can't form any kind of attachment?”

“I saw my dad die and I am not like that. I like connecting with people.” 

“Hell if I know John. Every person: A fucking snowflake.”

“We're really suckers, aren't we?” 

“Speak for yourself, I know what it is about him that you like. You want to help him. You want to save him. It's not your place.” 

“Whose place is it then, I wonder?” John counters. 

“John,” she says, her voice firm, “he doesn't want it any other way. He could have it. He pays well enough.” 

And maybe that's the problem, John thinks. They are hired help. Hired help usually doesn't care much. Thing is, John can't just stop caring for people, especially those who are so clearly in pain. “So, would you fuck him if he weren't rich?” John asks. 

“That question doesn't make sense, John. Because he is. I like to live in the here and now. Not in a 'what if' version of the world. But I would fuck him even if he wouldn't pay me for it, because I like my men like my coffee.”

“Dark and sweet?” John asks. 

And she laughs. “That would be you, John.” 

“I know,” he replies. 

“Go out and have fun, John. You're way too young to be a kept whore and you are a tactile person.” 

“You can only be a kept whore while you are young,” he answers. “You wanna come?” 

“What?” 

“Dancing,” John says. “Meeting strangers in the dark.” 

She is silent for a few seconds. “Yeah, I do,” she answers.

~+~  
They dance, they drink, they laugh and flirt and at the end of the night they go home with different people.   
All the time he is with this woman, he is thinking of Selina and her familiar laugh and touch. The way she likes to bite his shoulder while she comes. The way she grabs him with arms and legs like an octopus to keep him inside, to drag him in deeper, like she wants to devour him. He misses her to death, he realises.   
And even if the sex with this perfectly beautiful, perfectly giving stranger is way better than the sex he is having with Wayne, he still feels more connected to Wayne. What the actual fuck?! 

~+~  
There is a mad second when he wakes up the next morning, in his own bed, alone, where he is thinking about calling her and asking, actually _asking_ , how her night was. Like they could compare notes on that too. Like it's normal.   
It's not, and comparing notes on Wayne is different because Wayne is _work_. But, John thinks, they probably shouldn't have started that either. 

~+~  
John is on his second mug of tea when she calls.

“So? How was the good, old-fashioned sex?” she asks. 

“Old-fashioned,” John answers, and smiles. They aren't that different after all. Suddenly he's sure if he really wanted to save Wayne and asked for her help, she would help him. Mock, laugh and sigh in annoyance, but she would help anyway. 

“But was it good?” 

“It was good,” John says. 

“Yeah, I wish he wasn't such a messed up control freak too,” she answers.

“I thought you only liked him for his money,” he teases. 

“I like his face too,” she answers. 

John hangs up after they make a lunch date for the day after tomorrow.   
He's in high spirits until Wayne sends for him that evening. 

~+~  
When he arrives Alfred sends him right up, which is unexpected, but nothing that hasn't happened before. 

“Mister Blake,” Wayne says as John enters the bedroom. 

“Mister Wayne,” John responds. Bedroom means Wayne wants to take his time. So John will be naked for this one. He waits for Wayne to tell him to take his clothes off anyway. 

“Hands over your head,” Wayne says and John grabs the headboard hard. 

This is a bit like torture because he always, always wants to touch Wayne in return. It feels wrong not being able to touch while Wayne is running his fingers, lips and tongue over John's skin. By now Wayne knows exactly how John will react to certain things; knows how to get him hard in seconds, knows how to make it last. And it's only natural, John thinks, that he wants to know these things about Wayne too.   
He closes his eyes when Wayne nudges his legs apart a bit wider. He isn't sure where this is going – or, well, in any other situation he would be pretty fucking sure where this was going, but this is Wayne and Wayne hasn’t even had a finger in John's ass so far, hasn't even grazed it. Suddenly John wonders if he should have established some rules on the first day. Just shows what a fucking amateur he is.   
John opens his eyes when he hears the cap of the lube snapping open. He looks at Wayne, and for the first time Wayne looks back at him. John's heart is hammering in his chest, but he doesn't tell Wayne to stop as Wayne slides one lubed finger carefully inside. It's been a while, but John wants this. Circumstances aren't the best, but whatever.   
He's afraid he's going to splinter the headboard because he is holding on so hard as the second finger slides in. He can hear Wayne's breath, can feel it against his skin and wants to turn just a little bit so he can kiss Wayne. Hard and messy. Wayne's fingers are very careful, slow, and searching. He's cataloguing again, but he's also very turned on. John can tell. Can feel Wayne's hard-on against his side. Trapped in his pants. John's of course the only one who is naked. 

“It's been a while,” Wayne says quietly. 

“Yes,” John grits out.   
Wayne slides another finger inside and John bites his lip. He really, really needs it now. Wayne isn't so indifferent anymore. He wants it too. John can feel him vibrate with the need. Can nearly taste it on the air when he licks his lips. 

“So tell me, do you want me to fuck you,” Wayne says and John wants to scream, yes, yes and yes for fuck's sake because you want it too and then Wayne finishes with: “Mister Blake?” 

And John lets go of the headboard, something inside him going very still and very cold. “No,” he says.   
Wayne looks confused for a second before his face is an impassive mask again. His fingers are still inside John, but not moving anymore. “No,” John says again, firmer. “I don't. There are things I don't do. Should have told you the first time,” he finishes. 

“I should have asked,” Wayne says, pulling his fingers out, gently. 

“If that's a deal-breaker for you-” John starts. 

“It's not,” Wayne cuts in, a bit too fast, a bit too sharply. “Good night Mister Blake.” 

John gets up and gathers his clothes. He's feeling cold and empty and stupid. “Good night, Mister Wayne.” 

~+~  
He showers quickly and doesn't look at himself in the mirror.   
Alfred is waiting for him at the door and all John wants to do is break down and ask for a cup of tea. He doesn't. Alfred hands him the envelope and a cookie. 

“Master Wayne told me to send you straight home. Your taxi is already here,” Alfred says. He disapproves of this, John can tell. 

“I'll be alright, Alfred,” John says. 

“Of course, Master John,” Alfred replies and John hugs him before he leaves the house. He wonders if this really isn't a deal-breaker for Wayne. Well, he'll find out soon enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**~Four~**

“Okay, so you are totally withholding shit right now, John. I know you,” she says.  
He looks up from his pie; he has barely touched it. It's not a good sign when John isn't eating his pie. He is an orphanage kid; they always eat their pies. 

“It's stupid...I mean he hasn't said anything to you.”

“What are you talking about? The man is a brick-wall of silence. He doesn't tell you anything about our encounters either, does he?” 

“No, he doesn't.” 

“Communication just isn't his thing,” Selina shrugs. John pushes a piece of pie around his plate and Selina watches, waits him out, he will tell her. He wants to tell her, she knows it.

“He wanted to fuck me. He was really into it for the first time ever. Touching me, whispering in my ear, asking questions. It was like the first step or something.”

“Okay?” 

“And I wanted it like burning. Like desire was a living thing inside me. Like it had its own will. I wanted. Really wanted.”

“But you didn't let him, because you don't sell your ass for money,” Selina says. She knows that about him too. Didn't tell Wayne, because she had thought John would. 

“By the time he had three fingers in my ass and was panting into my skin, his dick pressing hard against my side, I had pretty much thrown that rule out the window,” John confesses, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall. His throat is bared. She wants to lick him when he looks so beautifully vulnerable like this. 

“So why didn't you let him fuck you? If you wanted it and he wanted it?” 

“Because he asked.” 

“And you were just stupid and overcome with lust and confused the words?” she asks sarcastically. 

He smiles, without opening his eyes. “He said, and I quote: ‘So tell me, do you want me to fuck you, Mister Blake?’” John looks at her then. “And I couldn't.” 

Something chilly settles in her stomach. She knows how much that must have hurt John. Especially in that kind of situation. He’d read all the signs right and he had been sure that Wayne wanted him and then Wayne went and ruined it all.  
“John-”

“He wanted it. He wanted it and he-” John stops, staring at the wall, not seeing anything.  
He wanted you, Selina thinks. She has had similar close calls with Wayne over the last few months. Like he couldn't keep it under control anymore. So he pushed and then he withdrew again. Like it was some kind of test. A battle of wills. 

“He's messed up.” 

“He's losing it,” John says. He almost looks happy about it, she thinks. 

~+~  
When Wayne next sends for her she isn't really surprised to find out that John is already there too; it had to happen sometime. There was no way around it. Not with someone like Wayne. And he had asked her if it would be okay, and she told him she had no problems with threesomes. Which is true. Usually. But this is John. On the other hand: this is John. She can trust him not to hurt her, and that is more than she can say about anyone else she’s ever known. She isn't even sure about Wayne right now. He certainly could hurt someone, badly. There is this way he holds himself, the power, the predatory energy she can sometimes feel and see inside him. Sometimes she thinks there is something else living under Wayne's skin. Something that likes to stay in the shadows, something that likes to scare people, likes to be feared. Sometimes he just looks broken.  
And like he is falling apart at the seams.  
Not tonight. 

~+~  
“That wasn't half bad,” John says, not looking at her. He's staring out of the car-window. She offered him a ride and he accepted. It was better than waiting another hour for the bus. She would just dump him somewhere near enough his flat so he could walk the rest of the way home. 

“It wasn't,” she replies.

“He was normal,” John presses on. 

She snorts. Not very ladylike. “That is a word I wouldn't ever use describing him.”  
She can see him smile out of the corner of her eye. 

“Okay, normal for him.”

She nods. It had been normal behaviour for Wayne. Back to the no touching, only watching routine. “Would have liked to watch you,” she breaks the silence and he looks at her. She’s looking at the street. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she answers. She misses him. Misses the way his hands were careful when she needed it, or how he could just kiss her so hard she thought it would bruise, or how his fingers would tangle in her hair as she went down on him. “We always had great sex.”

“True enough,” John says. 

They weren't really friends back then. She had thought, and John sure as hell thought too, that they were lovers, but they were too young to really grasp the concept of it all. They were blinded by each other. Maybe this is their second chance. But then, maybe not. What with them being whores and having a thing for Wayne. There is no way around it. She has a thing for Wayne – an unhealthy, insanely stupid thing for him, and she can see how John looks at him too. Knows he can't walk away from this. It's the danger, she suspects. They are both kind of adrenalin junkies. He's just a bit more careful that she is. Maybe not careful, she thinks, considerate.  
They keep silent the rest of the way into the city. 

~+~  
John kisses her cheek as he gets out of the car.  
She smiles at him. Thinks briefly about his apartment, and how it would look. His bed, his skin against hers.  
Not tonight, she decides. She is too distracted. He is too. 

“Good night, Selina.” 

“Good night, John,” she replies.

~+~  
There’s three people in one room having sex without touching each other. Only Wayne could pull something like that off. Only Wayne would even want something like that.  
And because she and John are suckers for Wayne, they didn't walk out of the room. 

She wonders if next time their roles will be switched. If it will be her on her knees in front of Wayne with her hands gripping her thighs, or behind her back with Wayne's cock in her mouth as he watches John pleasuring himself. His face in the pillows so Wayne doesn't have to look into his eyes. Doesn't have to see the emotions playing out. Or maybe he's going to watch John while she's sitting in Wayne's lap. Wayne fucking her, and her not allowed to touch him at all, except where their bodies need to be connected.  
Or if she will be alone with Wayne again. Or if he will be alone with John.  
Maybe it will be something she can't even imagine yet.  
She sighs. 

At least Wayne can't take his smell from her, them, when they're so close, even if he tries. He always smells like expensive soap, but underneath it all there is something else, and when she sucks his dick, she can inhale it. She would love for him to let go for once and let her taste him. The smell of the soap and condom almost disguises Wayne's aroma, not to mention his taste. It's frustrating. She wants to know what his kiss would feel like, what it would taste at every hour of any given day or night. 

~+~  
They go dancing again and even though they flirt with beautiful strangers they don't take them home.  
Selina doesn't shower before she falls into her bed in only her underwear. John's scent from dancing so close still on her skin, his laugh still in her ear, the flash of his smile: she doesn't have to think about it as she lets her hand slide over her body.  
No foreplay tonight, and if she were with John right now they would've skipped it too.  
It reminds her of a time when they were so carefree with their affections and desires. Stealing away, running, really, to fuck against a wall in the middle of the night. Warm spring air on her heated skin, two dark shadows in the night.  
John's mouth against her neck, panting her name over and over and over again, as he fucked her with abandon. Her fingers digging into the soft flesh of his sides, leaving marks all over his boyish body.  
And that searing, bruising kiss she gave him (he gave her?) after they came. Her legs quivering, her laughter ringing, bouncing against the walls, flying away into the night, out into the world – and hadn't that been happiness, right there? How had they lost it?  
Maybe he grew up faster than her, she muses, coming slowly down from her orgasm. Maybe he had to. 

Maybe he should have waited for her. But to be honest, she knows it wouldn't have worked out then.  
It could work now. His touch was still electric, but different too. She felt less like he was always trying to protect her, like he needed to keep her somewhat in check so she wouldn't endanger herself. She understands now that what had attracted him to her, what he loved about her, had also scared him shitless. She was still a thrill-seeker, but so was he, or he wouldn't be walking the streets alone at night to suck off strangers for money. But the risks were more calculated now. They were grown up people now, not just two stupid kids pretending to be. 

~+~  
Wayne's calls are only for both of them, now. She checked with John.

“It's creepy and fascinating how much planning he puts into these encounters,” John says to her over pasta. They're in his tiny apartment and it smells like garlic, tomatoes and basil. She likes it. It's not where she'd want to live, but it suits him. She likes that he's letting her in again. She likes that she feels like she can do the same. She hasn't so far, but she is working up to it and he doesn't pressure her. 

“He certainly is creative in his obsessions,” she remarks. His cooking is delicious, and it makes her stomach warm with mushy feelings she rather not reveal. She has a reputation, but than, as if John would care about that. 

“I would use the word compulsive,” John says. 

She nods, that too. “Wonder if he's going to repeat it all if he runs out of ideas to keep us separated while having us both naked and in the same room.”

“Honestly, I'm waiting for him to snap,” John replies calmly. He sounds like he knows Wayne _will_ snap sooner or later.  
She supposes they could help this along a bit, but then they would risk losing Wayne. He could just cut them out of his life like he did with the rest of the world. The word on the street is he's the beast in the tower. Even if his tower is a mansion. “Beast in the tower, hmmm?” John says softly. “It's fitting really, if you think about it.”

She has the feeling he knows something about Wayne she doesn't. But he's not going to tell her. Not because he's a dick, but because he thinks she can figure it out on her own, if she wants to. She wasn't interested in Wayne before...well, she was. Maybe bringing John in was the first step of a half-dreamed plan. Because she knows John, knew that he would want to help Wayne. Knew, maybe, that he would fall for Wayne even more if he could only meet him, spend time with him. Wayne, Selina knows, is the first man he’s ever fallen for, hard. Even if he reduced it in his head to just a childish crush. If it doesn't die over the course of ten years, Selina thinks, it shouldn't be called a crush anymore. 

~+~  
John looks good enough to eat when he comes out of the shower and she is fucking frustrated. She's come, alright, but she is starving for something more and Wayne's games are becoming annoying. 

She grabs his arm on the way down and he lets her. “Take me out tonight. I need to feel desired and touched and adored,” she says. 

“Sure, better that than your other adventures,” John says casually, but quietly enough that Alfred doesn't hear. She should have known he would find out. And if they were still stupid teenagers, he would've lectured her, but they are not, and he won't. Besides, the stealing is more like a hobby, it's not like she sells the stuff or mugs old ladies. She can't help it that she likes shiny things. She would buy them, if they were for sale, but most of them aren't. Okay, and if she's honest for a minute, she likes the thrill of it too. She likes to outsmart people. Especially people who think they're better than her. 

“It helps me think,” she responds.

“Right.” 

“Master John, Miss Selina,” Alfred greets, handing the envelopes over. She kisses his cheek.  
Alfred smiles at her, but his eyes are lingering on their joined hands. He looks a bit worried. 

“We still love him,” she whispers into Alfred's ear. It's an open secret between them. 

Alfred nods. “Good night,” he says.

“Good night Alfred,” John replies, hugging him. 

She can't lose Wayne, she thinks, _they_ can't lose Wayne, because they also would lose Alfred in the process and this, this family, she wants this. She wants it badly. 

~+~  
She's feeling the desire and heat in the room, the escalation just out of reach. John had been right. Wayne is ready to snap and if he were smart, he would call this whole thing off.  
She wonders how long he can keep it together. For tonight, at least, he has.

“You smell so good,” she says, dragging John out of the bathroom as soon as he opens the door. She hasn't showered. The door to Wayne's bedroom, or one of his bedrooms, is closed again. They're dismissed. She is feeling horny, still.

“You smell like pussy,” he whispers in her ear and she shudders, slapping him lightly nevertheless. 

“Really? I wonder why that is.”

“It's a good thing,” John says and turns them so they are half in the shadows, pressing her back against the wall. 

“Are you going to fuck me here and now John?” she asks lightly, but her heart is hammering. She wants it. 

“I'm gonna get you off, so you can drive me home and not cause an accident,” he teases. 

She smiles and then gasps, biting her lip. She doesn't want Alfred to find them like this. He slides his hand under her dress, not removing her panties, rubbing her clit through the thin material. She loves the feeling. Loves how different kinds of cloth can make for different orgasms. She turns her head slightly, and John presses a bit closer, rubs her a bit harder and faster. She digs her nails into his arms as she comes hard and fast with a muffled groan. Her legs are shaky. 

“Still good at this,” she says. 

“You think you can drive?” he asks, a bit worried. “Because I can't drive your fancy car.”

“Yeah, give me a minute to catch my breath. Don't want Alfred to see me like this.” She untangles herself from his embrace and goes to the bathroom to make herself presentable again. She doesn't bother to try and cover up the glow. She always thought she looks her best after an orgasm. 

“Ready?” he asks as she comes out. 

“Yeah, won't get prettier than that,” she answers and John leans over very quickly to kiss her cheek. 

~+~  
“When he loses it,” she asks, “what do you think will happen?”

“He might throw us out, obviously. To protect himself. He might only throw one of us out. But most likely he will cut us off,” John says. 

“That's not what we want,” Selina replies.

“It's how he works. He doesn't know how to connect. Doesn't want to trust, doesn't want to depend or even admit he needs help with something. Even something as trivial as sex. I bet he was agonizing about it for months before he researched all the high-class escorts in Gotham and called you.” 

She’d pretty much figured the same thing. Wayne isn't the type to do something on a whim. “He could have gone out. He doesn't need to pay for sex.” 

“He wants to, so he can have some sense of control over the situation. We are employees.” 

“Expensive as fuck and with only one purpose,” Selina says.

“True, but still. Just employees.” He sighs. “If we confront him, he's going to lose it and throw us out. If he loses it he's going to throw us out and there is something else,” John says. 

She risks a glance in his direction. He's staring outside the window into the night as they drive towards the city. “Yes?” 

“You couldn't see, but he touched my neck. Curled his fingers around it as I sucked him. I didn't dare to open my eyes to look at him, but-” 

“He touched you, he reached out.” 

“Yes,” John says. 

“That's a good thing.” 

“It's a start. Hopefully.” 

~+~  
The next time, she dares to grab his ankle. Just holds it, not even touching skin as she sucks Wayne's dick while he watches John. Wayne doesn't say anything about it, but he doesn't make her stop or throws her out either.  
Maybe, she thinks, if they don't mention it, don't acknowledge it, they can fall slowly into it. Let it sneak up on them. Sneak up on Wayne.  
Maybe they're playing a very dangerous game with a very dangerous man.  
But her heart is hammering and the adrenalin in her veins is rushing at the thought of finally having him.  
She always plays to win. The higher the stakes, the bigger the rush. 

“The greater the failure,” John warns softly. “The bigger the pain.” She shuts him up with a gentle kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

**~Five~**

“I want to watch you,” Wayne says, “together.” 

John knew it would come up at some point. He is glad it's only now, because he's on better terms with Selina. They are friends again – more, even. They're on their way to being...well, not what they were, but something better, probably. And maybe Wayne is finally seeing it too. 

It's easy to pull her close, kiss her and slowly take off her clothes. It's almost as if they are alone in an expensive hotel until Wayne starts to give directions; orders, really. 

“I want you to fuck her. I want to see your faces,” Wayne says and his voice is devoid of all emotion. John feels her go still under him. The heat she was radiating only a short moment ago, the desire, is all but gone now. She's stubborn, John knows; she won't quit just because this is not her favourite thing to do. But she also trusts John not to hurt her, and this is hurting her and he will not stand for it. He looks down at her beautiful face; her soft lips, lipstick smeared from their kissing, a red spot on her collarbone where his mouth has smudged it into her pale skin. She reaches out, stroking his neck and he leans down to kiss her, forgetting for a moment, again, why they shouldn't be doing this.

“Miss Kyle, Mister Blake-” Wayne starts and John turns to look at him over his shoulder. 

“No,” he says. 

“No?” Wayne asks. 

“No,” John answers. 

“I'm paying you-”

“For our time, to suck your dick, to watch us masturbate. And that is okay, but what you want now is not for sale,” John says, because suddenly he knows what Wayne is after here, what he really wants to see. What he wants to _buy_. 

These tender moments, these loving seconds of two people who like each other, adore each other, find pleasure and joy in each other; these minutes they share. What Wayne wants to witness, what he wants to buy is their love. And John isn't selling that. He's always given it away freely, maybe carelessly, but he's never sold it to be consumed. And he's not going to start now. 

“John,” Selina warns gently. 

“No,” he says again. “I told you,” he continues still looking at Wayne, “I won't hurt her, even if you want me to. And I sure as hell won't let you hurt me.” He turns to kiss her cheek and she smiles up at him. “Whatever,” John mumbles, because he knows what she's thinking. He's protective and mushy, but whatever. Not all things in their past were bad. 

“Miss Kyle?” Wayne asks. 

John isn't even worried she will try and talk him into it. She can't fake it with John because she does love him. He knows that. 

“What he said, I'm afraid,” she answers. 

“I apologize if I offended you, but I thought that-”

“No,” John interrupts again, standing up. “You offended on purpose. And I know you're not sorry.” He takes a step closer to where Wayne is sitting, still fully clothed. “The sad thing is that you're sabotaging yourself every time. Even when you want something so badly it must hurt. That night you wanted to fuck me? That night I so desperately wanted you to fuck me, were you testing yourself? Or me? I wonder,” John says still coming slowly closer. “If you'd have called me John, I would've let you.” He smiles bitterly, “but of course, you know that.” 

He leans over, his hands on the armrests, not touching Wayne. Their faces are only inches apart. He can feel Wayne's breath, controlled and calm, but his fingers twitch a little where they nearly touch John's skin. John is naked. He's bared his body and his soul and probably parts of his heart.

“John,” Selina says softly from somewhere close behind him. 

“I wonder what would happen if I touched you now – pushed, claimed you – would you yield? Give in? Or would I need to use force? Would you fight me?” He licks his lips and hears Wayne inhale sharply. “The things I want you to do to me. The things I want to watch you do to Selina...” John is tempted to lean in close and just kiss Wayne, just do it and make him his, make him theirs. But he doesn't want to have to fight Wayne every damn step of the way. They're grown ups for god's sake. “The things I could do to both you and _him_ ,” he whispers softly, so only Wayne can hear and watches Wayne's eyes fill with something deep, dark and dangerous. John doesn't back down until Selina touches his hand, pulls gently, interlaces their fingers and makes him step away. He feels shaky and is glad for her firm, solid body against his side. 

“We're leaving now, Mister Wayne. You do have our numbers,” she says, pulling gently at John's hand. He follows her without taking his eyes off Wayne. 

~+~  
“John, John, John,” she says in the car, and she is all over him. She is hot and wet. Didn't bother putting anything on except her shoes and coat. “That was so fucking hot, John. I want it. I want it all. John,” and she kisses him desperately, opens his pants, pulls his dick out, fumbles for a condom and they fuck in the car in Bruce Wayne's freaking driveway. And John really couldn't care less who might be watching them right now, because this is theirs and theirs only. 

~+~  
“You've probably lost your street cred,” John says as he catches his breath. 

“Maybe. But John, he wants you so badly. I could nearly taste his desire to be part of you.” 

“Part of us,” John corrects. 

“What did you tell him? The last part?” 

“Spoiler,” John answers. 

“Fine, don't tell me. I'll find out.” Selina says. 

“And it will be delicious,” John whispers and feels her shiver. 

“Oh god, shut up or we'll crash into a freaking tree. I need to concentrate to get us home.” 

And into bed, John thinks. 

They end up at her place. Fuck on the couch and then fall into bed, curled up around each other like children. John feels perfectly content. 

~+~  
John wakes up to loud, catchy music, and Selina singing at the top of her lungs and dancing – he can hear her jumping up and down and smiles. He hasn't heard that in a long time. She used to make him crazy with it. 

There's also the smell of coffee and if John has any luck she'll have tea as well. The only thing missing is Wayne, but the ball is now in Wayne's court. Even John knows when he has been played. That Wayne did it so John would say no and leave. Maybe Wayne even counted on John taking Selina with him. But that is a good thing, it means Wayne couldn't send them away on his own. John is pretty sure he didn't suspect that John knows Wayne's secret and that he doesn't care, that John wants them both – Wayne and Batman. Or even that John would stand up to him and _push_ back.  
And suddenly, John has an idea. 

~+~  
“You want me to do what?” she asks, but she's grinning. Her mouth pretty and a bit bruised, no make up, but still so red that John wants to bite her lips and take her on her way-too-expensive driftwood table. 

“You heard me.” 

“I didn't think you approved of my nightly activities,” Selina replies. 

“I do approve of most of them.” 

“What a filthy mind you have, young John,” she says. 

He can't really argue that. “You know he's not going to call-”

“He didn't call me the first time either. Alfred did.” 

John isn't even surprised. It would be so Wayne to research the hell out of this and then not allow himself to have it. Thank god Wayne has Alfred who actually cares for his sanity. 

“Told me to strip and left!” She says. “Never felt so humiliated in my life.” 

“And still you went back to him.” 

“Alfred called and even though Wayne didn't touch me the first time, he did pay,” she shrugs. 

If it were anyone else he would ask if this was some kind of power-trip, but it's Selina and he knows she cares about Wayne and doesn't want any kind of twisted revenge. She doesn't work that way. 

“So, are you going to break into his house or not?” 

“You know, if I ring the bell, Alfred will answer the door,” she says. 

“We don't want to make Alfred's life more complicated than it is, and you would miss all the fun. I just know he will come after you. In person. Because he is that kind of guy. And he wants you, probably wanted you from the first second he saw you.” 

“I know,” she says quietly. 

“I will be right there with you.” 

“You want to drive the getaway car?” she asks, amused. 

“Not if it's yours,” he answers. 

“I have a bike,” she says, biting her lip.

“You bought back my bike?” John wants to know, because fuck it all, he loved that bike, but it had to go; it was too expensive and he needed the money. 

“I can be quite sentimental,” she says. “Want to take it for a spin?”

John nods. He's sure she kept it in perfect shape. He can nearly hear it purr, feel it vibrate under him. 

“I repainted it,” she says. “Black, to match my-” 

“Heart?” John cuts in smiling. 

“Soul,” she retorts.

John knows better. “Your favourite fucking cat...”

She grins into her mug. 

~+~  
She comes back one night looking smug and John knows she's done it without him. They haven't heard from Wayne in over six weeks. Seems she didn't want to wait any longer. John can't blame her and he isn't going to throw a fit either. She can look out for herself. He only wonders what she took. 

“So?” he asks, the cat is sitting in his lap, and as Selina steps into the room it looks up at her, jumps down and goes over. John watches; they stalk alike, he thinks. He never really noticed how Selina's movement looked so feline, like she has a few extra bones.

“It's just a little something I picked up,” she says, stripping. John looks at her, from her toes, over her legs, her stomach, breasts and then higher to her neck. 

“You never wear necklaces,” John says, getting up and walking over to her. 

“I like this one. You think he will be mad about this?” She grabs him by his shirt and drags him closer. He kisses her. “They belonged to his mother,” she whispers. 

“Yeah, I think that should do the trick,” John answers. 

“Left him a lipstick kiss in return,” she says.  
John laughs. 

~+~  
Wayne knocks on John's door the next evening. He had probably been to Selina's apartment before and, after not finding her, he came here to John’s. John isn't surprised at all. 

“I could've called the police,” he says. He looks pissed off. 

“I knew you wouldn't,” John replies.  
Wayne's eyes narrow. He looks scary as fuck when he does that. And it shouldn't get John hot and bothered but he can't help it. He is an adrenalin junkie. He nearly takes a step back, but he can't. Knows he has to hold his ground. “Please, do come in.” 

“Just hand over the pearls,” Wayne says, his voice dangerous and calm. 

“I can't. It's not mine to-” 

“It's not hers either!” 

“I've hidden it,” Selina says calmly from her place at John's small kitchen table. “If you find it, you can take it back.” 

“This is not a game, Miss Kyle,” Wayne says.

“Please, call me Selina,” she replies, “and I know it's not. The stakes are way too high for it to be just a game. So I have to wonder, why do you treat it like one?” Her voice becomes icier with every word. 

“I don't see why I have to-” 

“You played with us,” John says quietly. 

“You were paid more than-” 

“You know we are worth so much more than that,” Selina cuts him off again. 

Wayne looks ready to throw things, or murder them. Or fuck them senseless. John would much prefer the latter. “Hand it over and I will forget it happened.” 

“Take it,” Selina says and begins to strip. She doesn't start with her shirt, which hides the pearls, but with her shoes, her skirt, her panties.  
Wayne stares, trying to keep his breathing calm. John doesn't even pretend this isn't turning him on beyond belief. He can feel the tension build. She takes off the shirt and the bra and stands there, naked, on John's linoleum floor. Her toes are painted purple.  
“I considered hiding them properly. Really make you work for it. Open me up and pull them out gently, one by one...” she whispers. 

“Oh fuck...” John says harshly, but she doesn't look at him, she only has eyes for Wayne now. 

“If you want to, I can still do it,” she says. 

“Why are you doing this?” Wayne asks. 

“Oh you stupid, stupid man,” she answers gently, coming closer. “Isn't it obvious? The people in your life do what they do because they care, because they love you.”  
John can see him swallow, and he wants to lick Wayne's Adam's apple. Bite his chin, and kiss him until they're both bruised. 

“People die because they love me!” 

She takes a step back, looking at John; she suddenly seems uncertain.

“Bruce,” John says and Wayne's head snaps in his direction. “People don't die because they love you. People just die.” He steps into Wayne's personal space, without touching him. John is pretty sure even in this state Wayne could have him on the floor in seconds. “Life,” John says, “is just a short time between two points of not being. And it's up to us to make it worth the stay. Aren't you tired of fighting this battle alone?”

“I don't-” Wayne starts. “I don't need anyone else.” 

“So take them back then.” Selina offers the pearls. “And go. We won't fight you every step of the way. But I wonder why you want to look back at this moment when you're old, and regret your choices.”

“I won't,” Wayne says. 

“Look back? Or regret your choices?” 

“It will keep you safe.” 

“It won't,” Selina says. “I will get into trouble because I love the thrill of it and John will get on his knees in shady alleys because he needs to feel his heart race, needs to taste the danger on his tongue when he breathes in.” 

“But you know how that feels, don't you?” John whispers.  
Wayne closes his eyes. 

~+~  
John holds his breath as he waits for Wayne to make his decision. There is nothing more they can say. Selina grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers. 

“I used to be the most dangerous thing in Gotham,” Wayne says quietly. 

“You are,” John replies, “you are.” He cups Wayne's jaw with one hand and Selina mirrors him. 

“Is that why-?” 

“Maybe?” John says. “Does it really matter what the reason was in the beginning?” 

“No,” Wayne replies grabbing their joined hands and pulling.

Before John knows it they're tearing at clothes, trying to make it to John's bed. John has never pictured it like this, in his own bed, his own house, but it's fitting. 

~+~  
It's less angry than John would have thought, but no less passionate or frantic. Only understandable since Wayne's denied himself this for months. 

“Oh,” Selina says, tracing one of the many scars on Wayne's upper body, “Oh,” she repeats and kisses Wayne with a passion that borders on scary. “You,” she says, and then slings her legs around his waist, turning them in one smooth move, so he's lying under her.  
He's looking up at her, catching his breath and she is staring. “You are the rarest fucking thing, aren't you?” Another hard kiss until they're panting. “I will keep you forever. Lock you up and-”  
Wayne shuts her up by grabbing her neck hard and dragging her down to bite her jaw and she laughs. 

~+~  
They're both careful with Wayne's bad leg as they explore his body, try to find out what makes him moan, whimper, laugh. John isn't sure Wayne will ever be this loose again, this pliant, so giving without any demands.  
He kisses every inch of Wayne's skin on his side, and then switches with Selina so he can do it all over on the other and Wayne is panting, cursing softly. The knuckles of his hands are white, he's holding on to the headboard so hard. 

“The most beautiful treasure for thrill-seeking adrenalin junkies like us,” she whispers, biting his knuckles and Wayne lets go of the headboard, catching her around her middle, rolling them over. She lets him. “You going to fuck me now, Mister Wayne?” she teases. 

“I think you should call me Bruce,” he answers. John fumbles for the condoms he knows are in his night-stand. He hands one to Wayne and then just watches. It's surreal because he knows how that feels for Wayne: her arms and legs around him like she never wants to let go again, like she wants to get closer still, like nothing could be better than this. He watches them fuck hard and fast and the only thing he wants to do is kiss Wayne's nape, the delicate-looking skin there, so he leans in and does just that. Wayne makes a noise John didn't think anyone on this planet could make and Selina's fingers dig into Wayne's skin as he comes. She'll leave marks.

~+~  
“Let's be fearless vigilantes together,” Selina says, her naked feet dangling over the edge of the bed. 

“What?” Wayne asks. 

“We can't be fearful vigilantes, now can we?” she answers, kissing his shoulder. 

“You can't be a vigilante in the first place,” Wayne says. 

“If you say it's because I am a woman, I will kick your ass.” 

“I would have to worry you would rob them,” Wayne says, and she laughs. 

“You will see reason soon,” Selina whispers. 

“You know,” John cuts in, “maybe serving some old-fashioned justice will keep her away from the shiny things.”

“I have a lot of shiny things,” Wayne says. “Sharp and shiny.”

“Now you're talking about us,” John accuses. 

Wayne pins him down in seconds. John's blood rushes with adrenalin. “I can take you in a fair fight any second of any day.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” John says, stroking Wayne's side and watching Selina creep up on Wayne. “But we don't fight fair, you see,” he whispers just as she tumbles into him so they can both pin Wayne down to the bed. 

“We fight for victory,” she says and John kisses her, hears Wayne groan as he watches. 

“Imagine,” John says, steering the conversation back to the original topic, “Selina and I out hunting scum in the dark, coming back to you hot and bothered, adrenalin pumping in our veins-”

“Horny as fuck,” Selina throws in. 

John smiles, running one hand down Wayne's stomach, nudging Selina's thigh and she smoothly switches places with him, so he's sitting in Wayne's lap.  
“We would descend on you like hungry wolves,” John whispers, his ass is nudging Wayne's dick, and he moves a bit to let it slide between his cheeks. 

“John-” Wayne says.  
It's been a long time, and he isn't really stretched (two of Selina's fingers during foreplay really don't count), but he's been thinking about Wayne fucking him for years.  
“John, don't,” Wayne says again, sharper, because he's paid attention, knows it will probably hurt like this. 

John looks him directly in the eyes, his hands running aimlessly over Wayne's body. “I can take whatever you can dish out,” and he puts an emphasis on you, so Wayne knows he means all of Wayne. That Wayne doesn't have to hold back, and neither does Batman. He leans down, kisses Wayne while Selina grabs a new condom. “It'll be alright,” John whispers, sinking down slowly on Wayne's dick. His hands ball to fists and Selina strokes them softly until he feels like he can breathe again and then he moves and it's glorious. 

~+~  
“That isn't even a fraction of what I can dish out,” Wayne says, there is something like a smile playing around his lips. 

“I hope so,” Selina says, lazily, “we would be bored really quickly and you would have to chase us all over town and make us give back all the shiny things...”  
John kisses her shoulder, smiling. She's so fucking tired, he can tell, because her voice is soft and her words slow. 

“You're not giving up on this, are you?” Wayne asks. 

John sits up a bit so he can look at Wayne. This isn't only about the vigilante thing, he knows. “I wonder what your first clue was.” Wayne laughs. “Shh now,” he says, throwing an arm over Selina so his fingertips can touch Wayne's heated skin. They snuggle closer. 

“This is not the last word -” Wayne starts. 

“You're fighting a lost battle,” John cuts in, yawning. 

Wayne's fingers tighten a bit on John's hip. “I don't always have to win,” he whispers and John smiles.


End file.
